


the empress

by simplycarryon



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Neutral Ending Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 10:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5160941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplycarryon/pseuds/simplycarryon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your king lies in ruins, and you rise to take his place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the empress

**Author's Note:**

> based on the neutral ending where Undyne becomes empress.

Asgore is dead.

You find his dust by the barrier, a heap of ashen white that hurts your heart more than you ever thought anything could. The king you loved so dearly lies in ruins, his heart shattered and his body dissolved, and—you don’t cry. You never cry. But something wells up within you, deep and terrible and angry, and you have to fight it to keep yourself from screaming until your throat bleeds, from punching the barrier until it breaks or you do.

Instead, you gather yourself and his dust, and you scatter your beloved king across his garden. He would have wanted it that way, the big softie.

You save a pinch for yourself, too. You draw the Delta Rune over your heart in ashen fingerprints, and you feel your resolve strengthen; if there's any truth to the stories you've heard all your life, some tiny fragment of his essence lives on in you now.

The underground is leaderless, disorganized. There is an air of panic that you crush under your heel as quickly as you can; the monsters need a leader, and the queen is nowhere to be found, so you don your armor and you focus on the daunting task of filling the void Asgore left.

They want to call you queen, but you scorn the idea. You will not accept even a shadow of Asgore’s title; it is his, and will always be his. Besides, kings and queens are peaceable people, if your previous rulers were any example, and you are anything but.

Empress, they call you, when the chaos settles. 

You accept this.

Empresses are creatures of war, daughters of battle. Empresses lead armies, storm castles, conquer countries. Empresses have hearts of stone and eyes of fire, souls that burn with righteous fury.

You wonder what your beloved king would think of you now.

You build your reign along with your army, gutting and rebuilding the Royal Guard from the ground up. The Guard has never been outfitted for war—how Asgore planned to wage war on humanity you’re not really sure, but you figure he had you at least—but your soldiers are loyal and strong, and you train them well, and with your every step you remind them of what you have lost and what you will gain.

Papyrus, though.

Even with the weight of the kingdom on your shoulders, and the hatred that burns bright in your heart, you can’t bring yourself to let Papyrus be a part of any of this. He’s too good, too kind; humans would tear him to pieces, leave him in ruins just like they left your king.

But your war plans leave you with no time for cooking lessons, and he’s taken to following you around, standing patiently outside your door when you collapse into bed for the occasional hour of sleep—like he thinks you’ll change your mind because you’ve worked yourself to exhaustion.

So you appoint him to a position. What that entails is not important—he asks you what it’s called and without missing a beat you tell him it’s The Most Important Royal Position, and he lights up like a decorated tree.

His job, you inform him, is to stand around and look cute. For morale, or something.

You’re not sure if the look Sans gives you is grateful, disappointed, or something else entirely, but you’re past the point of giving a damn about what Sans thinks. Wars don’t plan themselves, and Papyrus would only be in the way. This way, he’s safe, and he won’t feel your loss as keenly as he would if you just shut him out of your life entirely.

The Rune persists dusty over your heart. 

Part of you thinks Asgore would be horrified at what you’ve done, at what you intend to do. 

The rest of you has stopped caring.

Asgore would still be alive, if not for humanity. 

Monsters would still flourish aboveground, if not for humanity. 

So you will do what your beloved king never could, and you’ll wipe humanity off the face of the earth, starting with one very specific human.

In Asgore’s name, under your banner, the underground will go empty. 

And monsters will finally be free.


End file.
